Extinction
by SnailsAndPuppyDogTails
Summary: When the world ends Catherine is left with only her niece, and she must learn to fend for herself while keeping what's left of her family alive. Her struggling comes to a halt, however, when she joins the Atlanta group, and she learns that even during the apocalypse good memories can be made. Daryl/OC
1. Into the Unknown

**A/N:** I just recently jumped on the TWD bandwagon (I know, like three years later.), and oh my good golly gosh, I am HOOKED.

The OC, Catherine, refers to them as _ghouls_, not walkers.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Walking Dead. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction. I'd be livin' it up with Norman.

* * *

_Into the Unknown  
_

We were camping on the side of the road, off a ways into the woods, to hide ourselves. It was just myself, my fiancée, Thomas, my brother, Daniel, my sister, Anne, Clara, Daniel's wife, and their daughter, Michelle.

We had come all the way from Florida, moving first from our small town to Tallahassee, since there was supposed to be some sort of massive refugee center. Half-way there, however, we decided to head to Georgia to be with the rest of our family. Along the way, however, we lost most of our group.

In our little campsite, we had built a tiny fire, just enough to give us some light and warmth. We didn't bring any of our bags, since we planned on leaving as soon as the sun rose, so we slept on the dirt with our pillows underneath us and no blankets or sleeping bags. We were just outside of Atlanta, which is where our family was located, and had planned on meeting with them at the refugee center there. My family and I, what was left of it, thought we would be safe, even if we were still outside the city.

We were _so _wrong.

During the night, just a little past midnight, I was awoken by the sound of shuffling and snarling. I immediately knew what it was and jumped up, grabbing my tomahawk while I was at it. I called for my family to wake up, but just as my sister, Anne, woke up, a ghoul dropped down on her and bit into her cheek. The forest around us echoed with her screams, and I hurled myself at the ghoul to beat its head in. There was more snarling behind me, and I could hear my brother ushering his daughter to their van. I looked down at Anne, our eyes gazing into each other, and saw her give me a nod. She was shaking and sobbing, her body convulsing as she let out squeals of pain. With that nod, though, I knew what I needed to do. I lifted the tomahawk and drove it into her head, a pained sob choking its way out of my throat.

I turned around and jumped at the next ghoul I saw, swinging my tomahawk angrily and spattering blood and brains all over my arms and face when I drove it into its skull.

"Catherine!" called Thomas, my fiancée. I looked over to see him backed against a tree, holding a bat in front of him to keep the ghoul that was reaching for his face away. I ran over to him and sunk the blade into its head, but my efforts were in vain because as soon as he was free, another ghoul came from his side and sunk its teeth into his shoulder. I stood dumbfounded for a moment, staring as my fiancée was being attacked before my very eyes. The ghoul soon stopped, however, and fell forward when my brother sliced into its skull with his axe. We shared a wide-eyed look, both knowing we had to put Thomas down, but neither wanting to do so.

"I'll do it," he said, giving me a nod. I looked down to my fiancée, stared into his face as he held his shoulder and writhed in pain. I watched as my brother put the axe in his head, too, ending any misery that was to come.

We both snapped our heads over to the sound of Clara screaming, however, only to be met with the sight of her being attacked by two ghouls. Daniel and I ran to her aid, taking the ghouls out. Afterwards, he put her down.

I looked around frantically, my mind beginning to wander where Michelle was. I asked Daniel, and he said she was at the van. I grabbed his arm and began to pull him away, but he stopped me and pulled my hand off of him.

"I can't, Cat," he said, gasping for breath. I furrowed my brows, my head tilting to the side in confusion. He stared at me with sad eyes, sweat and dirt and ghoul blood covering his face and body. "I can't."

"W-What do you mean 'you can't'?" I stuttered, my voice rising an octave. "Daniel, we don't have time for this right now. We have to get Michelle!"

He sighed and handed his axe to me. "_You_ have to get Michelle. I can't go."

I shook my head in disbelief, my mouth hanging open. "Daniel, what are you talking about?"

He bent over and lifted up his left pant leg. Around his ankle was an ugly bite mark. "Son of a bitch got me when I tried to get Michelle out. Hurts like hell."

The tears began to well up, my voice being choked back into my throat. "D-Dan-Daniel, w-what am I supposed to do without you? I-I-I've lost everyone else tonight! W-What do I do?"

My voice had steadily began to rise as I was talking, and it was shaky, like I was being rattled as I spoke. He gave me a sad smile and shrugged dismally. "I don't know, Cat. Just keep yourself and Michelle safe."

There were more ghouls approaching, no doubt hearing our screaming and seeing the fire still slightly burning. He looked back to see three or four approaching, then turned around to take his axe back. He pushed me, then, a frantic look on his face. "Get out of here, Cat! Get to the city, find the refugee center, and get you and Michelle to safety."

When I didn't move, he turned back to me and shoved me towards the cars, his voice becoming angry. "Damn it, Cat, I said _go_!"

I turned and ran back to the van, stumbling on some loose dirt, and flung the sliding door open to grab Michelle.

"Michelle, honey," I said as I rifled through the bags to find hers, "we have to go now."

She scooted to the door and looked out towards our meager campsite. "What about mom and dad? And uncle Tommy and aunt Anne?"

I stopped, the tears welling up again and stinging my eyes. I shook my head and willed them away. "They're not coming, sweetheart."

She was quiet, and I was afraid she'd run off so I looked down, only to see her looking up at me with sad, tearful eyes. I felt my stomach drop, but quickly remembered we had to go when I heard the snarling of the ghouls coming closer. After another few seconds of rifling through the bags, I found hers and heaved it onto my shoulder. I grabbed her hand and pulled her along to my car, which was parked just behind the van. She clamored into the passenger's seat and I shut the door behind her, sprinting around the front of the car to get to the driver's seat. There was a ghoul in my way, and I swung my tomahawk at it fiercely, the body slumping to the ground when I pulled the blade out. Once in I slammed the door shut and locked all the doors, then sped off towards the city.

* * *

**Fun Fact: **Did you guys know that Norman's left eye socket is made of titanium, and that he has four screws in his nose? THE MORE YOU KNOOOOW.


	2. Survivors

**A/N:** New chapter! We meet the first person from the TWD cast!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Walking Dead. I only own Catherine and any OCs I create. You buzzards.

* * *

_Survivors_

Atlanta was a bust, and we quickly learned that when we saw that the city was overrun with ghouls. As soon as we entered the city, we were almost surrounded by them, and we had no choice but to make a run for it. We weaved in and out of buildings, and finally we found somewhere that was relatively safe to hide in an old restaurant. A few hours went by before Michelle fell asleep, and I soon followed, though it was a restless sleep that was plagued with nightmares.

When we woke we realized we had absolutely no supplies. When we fled the camp, all that was brought with us was mine, Thomas', and Michelle's, and since we had to abandon the car, we didn't have those, either. We had no clothes, food, or water. The only things we had left were the clothes on our backs, the tomahawk, and the pistol I'd kept strapped to my waist. We were utterly doomed to die. Since we were boarded up in an old restaurant, I decided to look around and see if there were any canned goods. When I went back into the kitchen, though, I was met with the awful stench of rotting food and corpses. As soon as I walked through the swinging doors, I gagged and almost lost whatever food was still in my stomach. I'd never smelt anything so terrible in my life.

"Aunt Cathy," called Michelle's tiny voice. She heard me coughing and retching, and was making her way towards me slowly. "What's wrong, aunt Cathy?"

I raised the back of my hand to cover my mouth and nose, my face scrunching up and eyes watering. The smell was almost too much to bear. "Nothing, honey. It just stinks back here."

After a moment of getting myself together, I crept through the kitchen, tomahawk in hand, and looked through cabinets, shelves, and pantries. I was able to find packaged goods like nuts, along with unopened preservatives. Satisfied with what I found, I gathered up all that I could and quickly made my way back out to the front of the restaurant.

"It's not much," I offered, setting the supplies down onto a table. "But it's better than nothing."

Later that day, after finding a map of the city and a great deal of planning, I decided we needed to make an errand run to find supplies. The small amount of food I'd found in the restaurant would not be enough to hold us over for no more than two days, so I decided we needed to scavenge for more, along with clothes and blankets. I decided on first checking the stores on our block, seeing as how we had access to each one through the alleys. The first place we checked was a bar, and I stole some alcohol for any wounds we may get. There were some peanuts in big five-pound bags, so I took three or four of those back to the restaurant. The next stop was an insurance agency, and the only thing I found from there were three or four cans of soup, along with two packs of bottled water that were in the lounge room. Our last destination was a pawn shop. Unfortunately, that place was ransacked, and all that was left were some computers, jewelry, and movies.

The next day we rose early to the sounds of ghouls shuffling about in front of the restaurant. At first we tried hiding under the tables, but when one of them attempted to open the door, I decided the place was no longer safe. We quickly packed up all that we could in cloth bags we found behind a counter and scurried to the emergency exit we had come through. Once we were out in the alley, however, I had no idea where we could go. So I dropped my bag and fished the map of the city out of it, opening it on top of a smelly, maggot covered dumpster. Just three blocks west was an apartment building, and I decided that was our best bet. I wasted no time in folding the map up, because I could hear a ghoul wandering its way through the alley, no doubt following a noise or smell we must have been giving off.

I grabbed my bag, then took hold of Michelle's hand and ran in the opposite direction of the ghoul, stopping once we reached the street. The street was mostly empty, except for the stray ghoul here or there, and the abandoned, burnt out cars that may have been holding more ghouls. I counted to three in my head then decided to take the risk; I pulled Michelle out onto the street and ran straight towards the apartments. We made it halfway through the first block before any ghoul caught sight of us. But once that first ghoul saw us, all of the ghouls on that street saw us. I decided then we had to find another way to the apartments or else they'd follow us straight there.

At the end of the first block I made a sharp left, then cut across the street to a clothing store. I pulled Michelle behind me, who was crying and gasping for breath, and ran straight to the back of the store to exit through the storage room. I kept to that strategy, cutting in and out of stores, until we reached the apartment building.

"Is this it?" Michelle asked when I shut the door behind us. We were enclosed in darkness with no way of knowing if a ghoul was standing next to us or not. "Aunt Cathy, is this it?"

I nodded my head, my chest heaving and heart pounding from the run and fear of being eaten. I realized then she couldn't see me nod. "Yeah, Michelle, this is it. We need to find a door to the lobby."

"But we can't see!" she cried. I felt some irritation seep into my body, but I quickly pushed it back down.

"I know, baby, but we still need to get to the lobby," I replied, trying my best to sound comforting. Letting go of her hand, I reached mine out and waved it in front of myself to see if there were any structures or objects in my way. When I felt none I reached back and took hold of her hand, then took a shaky step forward, sliding my foot against the ground. I realized by the softness under my shoe and the muffled sound of my footsteps that the ground was carpeted. We made it thirty feet when my body bumped into a door. I took a deep breath, my heart pounding and chest heaving just slightly, and rested my hand on the knob.

I counted to three silently, then turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open. Dim sunlight filtered in and partially blinded me, and once I was used to it I poked my head out of the door. There were a few bodies strewn about the floor, but I saw none moving, so I opened the door fully and emerged with Michelle in tow. None of the bodies had moved yet, so I decided to make our way to the stairs. I only took us up to the second floor, not wanting to have to walk more than that and fearing that if we were caught, we'd run out of breath before we even made it to the ground, and crept down the hall. It was dark, and the only light came from a massive floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the hall. There were wires hanging from the ceiling, and blood was spattered on the walls and doors, staining the carpet beneath our feet. It was quiet, and when paired with the blood that covered everything, it brought an eerie feeling to the hallway. A few doors to the apartments were open, and I decided to go into the first one that was closest to me. When I walked in, I was surprised by how sunny the apartment was. The sunlight was a bad thing, though, because it illuminated the dust and blood that covered everything. I walked into the living room, looking over the furniture and floors for bodies, but seeing none. I moved next to the kitchen, where all I saw was dirt and a putrid garbage can. To my right was a wall that had a few doors, and I cautiously opened each one to inspect the inside. The first door was for a broom closet, the next for the laundry. The next door, that was sitting on a wall that jutted out into the kitchen, was a small bathroom. I moved to the left side, down a short hallway that had one door on either side, along with a third door at the very end, facing the kitchen. Both doors along the walls were bedrooms, with one containing a bathroom and large closet. Both were empty. At the third door I noticed there was a smell coming from it, and I cautiously opened it, taking a few quick steps back when I saw the bodies that were piled inside the small linen closet. None of them moved, but I wasted no time in shutting the door and hurrying back to the living room where my niece was waiting for me.

"It's clear, Michelle," I told her, taking the bag she was carrying and setting it down on the couch. I walked back to the front door and shut it, turning the deadbolt and sliding the chain in place.

"So we're going to live here?" she asked, a hint of excitement in her voice. She walked around, poking at the couches and other bits of furniture.

"Yeah, we'll try," I replied, walking into the kitchen to inspect the pantry. I opened cabinets and drawers, finding packaged food such as noodles and nuts and cereal, and then canned goods like soup and corn, along with bottled water. I put all of the food we gathered, plus whatever I had just found in the kitchen, and piled it on top of the counters to take inventory. Michelle came bounding up to the counter.

"Wow, aunt Cathy!" she practically yelled. I felt a jolt of fear course through me, then reached over and slapped a hand over her mouth. She stared at me through wide eyes, a bit of hurt flashing through them.

"Honey, you can't be loud, remember? The ghouls will find us," I warned, placing a finger over my lips. "We have to be very quiet, okay?"

She nodded at me, then pulled away from my hand. I gave her a small, apologetic smile, and she hesitantly returned it. After a moment she turned around and began inspecting the apartment, opening doors and looking under furniture. I remembered the door at the end of the hall.

"Michelle," I called out softly. Her head perked up from beneath the coffee table. "There's a door at the end of the hall there; do _not_ open it."

She paused for a moment, eyes flitting to the hall with fear, then looked to me and nodded. I smiled at her, murmuring a "good girl," and went back to taking inventory of our food supplies. The next thing I looked for was a flashlight, or matches and candles—anything to give us some light at night. After searching through the kitchen, I finally found a scented candle and lighter that we could use for lighting at night. Michelle was still searching through the rooms, opening every drawer in the bedrooms and looking through the closets. She discovered that whoever previously lived there had a daughter around her age because she found clothes and some toys to play with. Luckily that kept her busy for the rest of the day while I gathered all of the blankets and pillows into the living room. When the sun began to set, I closed all of the curtains and lit our small candle. It gave off barely any light, and the smell it emanated mixed with the smells of blood, decayed flesh, and garbage. The smells combined were almost bad enough to make me gag. I laid out sheets and pillows on the couches, and put a comforter on each for Michelle and I. She looked at me funny, her small hand grasping the candle, and asked, "Aunt Cathy, why can't we sleep in the beds?"

I looked to the two bedroom doors, my heart sinking.

"Because they belong to someone," I said softly, my hands patting down the comforter to keep myself busy. "We can't sleep in their beds, it's rude."

She hummed quietly, casting a longing glance towards the room that belonged to a little girl, then crawled under the comforter on her designated couch. Once she was settled in she passed the candle off to me, and I left to make sure the front door was tightly locked. When I made it back to my couch and snuggled in, I blew out the candle and set it on an end table by the couch.

"Aunt Cathy," murmured Michelle, her voice small. I hummed in response. "When can we go home?"

I was silent for what felt like an hour. I wanted to so bad to tell her tomorrow, or the next day, but I knew that'd be the biggest lie I'd ever told someone. I rolled over onto my side and reached a hand out, brushing my fingertips against the top of her head.

"I don't know, honey," I said truthfully. She sighed then rolled onto her side, and soon I could hear her breathing even out.

* * *

About a week later I decided we needed to gather more supplies. Michelle had become comfortable in our borrowed apartment, and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't, too. We never had any run-ins with ghouls, and none wandered in from the streets. Of course, we hadn't left the apartment since we arrived, so some may have wandered into the lobby. On our second night staying in the apartment, we found some duffel bags, and I brought those along for gathering food and supplies. I had my map of the city out, laid out on the coffee table, and I was circling stores for us to explore. The first one I'd chosen was a hunting store.

After preparing ourselves, I took hold of Michelle's hand and led her out to the hallway, shutting the door tightly and quietly behind us. There were still no ghouls in the hall, and I let out a silent sigh of relief. We made our way down to the lobby and peeked through the window in the door. The bodies from before were still there, meaning they were _dead_. I grabbed Michelle's hand again and led her quietly through the lobby, back into the hall we entered through, and into the alley. After checking up and down the alley, I led her to the right and stopped at the next building. This one was the hunting store. I began to feel a little nervous, not knowing who—or _what__—_was inside the building. I pulled on the door, but it wouldn't budge. The nervousness turned into fear when I realized we would have to go onto the street. I didn't want Michelle going into the street, not with the ghouls roaming about. I turned around to face her, kneeling down and taking hold of her shoulders.

"Okay, Michelle," I started, looking up at her with a reassuring smile, "we can't get in through here. I have to go to the front of the store. You stay _right here_ and _do not_ move, okay? I'll go in through the front, and come straight back here. I want you to hide behind that dumpster there, okay? You stay there do not come out until I call your name. Stay quiet, okay?"

She nodded, the movement a jerking motion, and handed her bag to me. I smiled at her and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before turning and making my way down the side alley to the front of the store. I stood at the edge of the building, partially hidden behind some trashcans, and watched as ghouls shambled out along the street. There was a car directly in front of the store with a body slumped over in the driver's seat. I couldn't tell if it was a ghoul or an actual dead body, so I sucked in a breath and took the risk, darting out onto the sidewalk and to the shop door. I reached out to open the door, but stopped when I saw the glass was broken and stepped inside instead. I had my tomahawk raised, ready in case a ghoul came at me. The main area of the store was clear, so I made my way into the back, pushing the door open slowly and peering through the crack. I saw nor heard any ghouls so I crept in, my tomahawk still raised. The door shut behind me, enclosing me in darkness, and I felt fear spike within me, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I shuffled quietly to the back of the room, a hand reached out to help guide me so I didn't knock into any boxes. When I made it to the back wall, I slid my hand over its surface, feeling for a door. I finally found it, the smooth surface cold to the touch, and opened the door up, calling softly into the alley for Michelle. She emerged a second later, scurrying to the door to meet me. Once inside we walked back into the store and began rifling through the merchandise.

As I had expected, the guns were all taken. The knives, however, were not, and I grabbed the biggest knife that was left and found a sheath to put it in. I turned around and made my way to the camping section, grabbing three or four flashlights and all of the batteries I could find. Michelle was in the clothing aisle, grabbing things for she and I to wear. I walked down the aisle some, coming across the first aid section. There wasn't much, but I scooped it all up and threw it in my bag anyway. I had just enough room for a few more items, so I walked up and down the aisles. Just as I rounded the corner to the next aisle, I heard feet hitting pavement, so I rushed to Michelle and yanked her down, hiding behind a stand. An Asian man came in, younger than myself, carrying a canvas satchel bag and wearing a baseball cap. He looked over his shoulder quickly, a baseball bat clutched tightly in his left hand, then made his way into the store, the glass on the floor crunching under his feet. My heart was pounding, and I had a hand clamped over Michelle's mouth to keep her from making any noise. The man was making his way towards our aisle, and I tried to scoot us back to hide from him, but he rounded the corner just as I'd brought us to the end of the row. He stopped suddenly, looking down at us with wide eyes. I held my tomahawk up and he quickly took a step back, raising his hands and bat in the air.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he said calmly. The three of us stared at each other for a minute, then I stood up, pulling Michelle up with me. He took another step back.

"There's not much else in here," I stated, motioning to the merchandise still sitting on the shelves. "Just a few knives and clothes."

He looked over to the clothing section and a small smile came across his face. "That's what I'm here for, actually. Clothes."

I kept my eyes on him as he moved to the clothing on the racks, his steps slow and cautious. He looked back to us as he began pulling clothes from the hangers and stuffing them in the bag he carried. "I'm Glenn. Are you guys alone?"

I nodded slowly, watching his every move, my hand gripping the bags we brought in a vice-like grip. "I'm Catherine and this is my niece, Michelle. We were in a group, but they're all gone now."

He nodded understandingly and went back to picking out clothing.

"I'm with a group," he said absently. "There's about eighteen of us."

There was a pause as he seemed to think something over, his lips pursing tightly as he held onto a men's t-shirt. "Would you like to come back with me? I'm sure the group would be happy to have you join. We have other children, it'd give her someone to play with."

I looked down to Michelle, who was staring up at me hopefully. My stomach was in knots, uncertainty settling down within its depths. "I-I don't know…"

He sighed, his face taking on a look of dismay. He turned his face back to me, his eyes pleading. "You'll be safe with us, I promise. We have a camp just outside the city."

"I don't have a tent," I said quickly, my hand tightening even more on my bag. "I had one, but I had to leave my car behind when I came into the city. Got swarmed by ghouls."

Glenn gave me a funny look. "You call them ghouls? We call them geeks or walkers."

There was another pause as we both looked at each other, then he went back to sorting through the clothing. "How do I know we can trust you?"

His head snapped up at the question, then his eyes narrowed in confusion, his head tilting to the side just slightly. "What?"

I repeated my question, emphasizing it by raising my tomahawk just a hair. His mouth formed into an _O_ as he nodded slowly. "Honestly, do I look dangerous?"

I snorted and said, "The ones who don't look dangerous are often the worst."

His eyes were wide as he stared at me, then he nodded solemnly and began pulling more clothes from the rack. "I understand. Well I come in every few days. Maybe next time I'll see you. Hopefully by then you'll change your mind."

He gave me a quick, awkward nod before rushing out the door.

* * *

**Fun Fact: **In the very first episode, _Days Gone Bye_, Carl Grimes, Rick's son, is wearing a Science Dog t-shirt. Science Dog is a character created by Robert Kirkman, the creator of The Walking Dead.


	3. Amber Alert

**A/N:** Once I get Catherine with the group, I'm going to be stretching things out. Like, for example, in the show it looks like they only stay at the C.D.C. for a day. Instead I'm going to stretch it out to three or four days, just to give me some time to establish relationships and allow time to delve into Catherine and Michelle's story and what things were like for them when the outbreak started.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own The Walking Dead. I only own my own OCs. Duhhh.

* * *

_Amber Alert  
_

Things were scary for the first two weeks we were in the city. Michelle had nightmares and always missed her parents—and I did my best to comfort her, I really did—but there was only so much I could do. I didn't want to lie to her and tell her everything would be okay, but at the same time I did. I wanted her to have some hope, even if I didn't.

Around the middle of the third week we needed to find more clothes and food. I decided on a department store for the clothes, but left Michelle behind at the apartment because it was almost in the middle of the city. The doors were shut when I got there, but I quickly found a way in through a loading bay that was left partially open. I tried not to push it open all the way to keep from making too much noise, so I opened it just enough for me to crawl through. I went through the clothes, pleased to find that the store looked relatively untouched, picking out leggings and tight t-shirts and workout gear. I learned after my second or third scavenging trip that loose clothing was not your friend during the apocalypse. So instead of wearing loose shirts and jeans, I chose to wear leggings and tight training pants and tank tops. I also learned not to have long hair, because it gave the ghouls something to grab onto, just like your clothes. Michelle cried when I cut her long, beautiful hair to just below her ears. Her mother always bragged about how pretty it was, and she was always styling it into pretty braids and ponytails. I was also sad when I cut my hair, because I'd been growing it for a little over a year. Michelle's hair was uneven, but just barely so. Mine, however, was choppy and plainly stated that I had cut it myself with a knife.

I gathered all the clothes I could, stuffing them into backpacks I found along the walls, and moved to leave the store. At the loading bay I laid down on my stomach and peered underneath the opening to see if any ghouls had wandered into the alley. Luckily, none had. I pushed all of the bags out into the alley, which was like a whole street itself, and prepared myself to crawl through when out of nowhere someone swiped my bags up. I jumped up and, without thinking of all the noise it would create, flung the bay open, calling out to the person running away. It was a young woman, maybe a teenager, with cropped black hair and tanned skin. She was wearing green cargo pants and a white tank top, and she had all of my bags—_all three of them_—tucked under her arm. I took off after her, pulling my tomahawk out from the utility belt I had swiped from a construction site. She rounded the corner and dashed out onto the street, narrowly missing a group of ghouls that were slowly gathering towards the noise I was making. I turned the corner, my foot slipping on an old magazine and sliding across the concrete, my knee scraping along. There was a harsh sting emanating from the scrape, and I could feel it warm up as blood gathered on its surface. I limped for a few feet before regaining a natural run, and quickly caught up with her as she jumped over piles of garbage and bodies.

There were ghouls catching up to us now, and they were coming in from the side and ahead of us. A ghoul emerged from a car, practically falling out onto the street, and I swung my tomahawk at it, catching it right in its temple. I yanked the spike out and kept running, trying to keep up with the woman's retreating form. She turned a corner onto a new street, and I deemed the clothes a lost cause. I flung myself into an alley, instantly regretting it when I saw there were two ghouls inside it. However, a plan quickly formed when I saw the pile of trashcans sitting against a dumpster, and I launched myself onto the pile, climbing up onto the dumpster and jumping down. A jolt of pain surged through my right ankle when I landed, but I forced myself to shake it off so I could keep running. I glanced behind me to see if any ghouls were following me, and I felt my heart stop when I saw the group that was squeezing itself into the alley.

I stuck to the alleys as I ran, ducking and dodging through doorways to try to get rid of the ghouls. It seemed that no matter what I did, more and more ghouls piled up, trying their hardest to run after me. When I finally made it to the apartment complex, I had put a great deal of distance between myself and the ghouls. I rushed through the lobby and up the stairs, my hands shoving the door open with a loud _clang,_ and ran to the front door of mine and Michelle's apartment. My stomach dropped, however, when I found the door had been forced open. I slowly walked in, my hands shaking and chest heaving with fear, and took in the mess before me. The apartment was in disarray; most of the food and supplies were gone, and the lamps were knocked off the end tables and there were blankets lying on the floor, covered in blood. _Fresh_ blood, it seemed.

Immediately the tears came, and I ran through the apartment, flinging doors open and screaming for Michelle. I had no care in the world about who or what heard me; my only concern was finding my niece. I searched the bedroom that once belonged to a little girl, collapsing on my bottom when it turned up empty. My hands came to my face, the heels digging into my eyes to hold in the tears. As sobs wracked through my body, I took my tomahawk and threw it at the wall, the blade getting stuck in the drywall. I couldn't stop the pained scream that ripped through my throat, and I did little to stop it when it came out. My mouth hung open as a silent sob squeezed its way out of me, my face hot with tears. I punched the dresser in front of me, barely registering the pain as my knuckles cracked against it. When I heard movement, I jumped to my feet and grabbed my tomahawk, my feet instantly taking me to its source. I had hoped to find Michelle, but instead I found a ghoul making its way towards me from down the hall. With a sniffle I turned back into the apartment and began shoving whatever food and supplies were left into bags, moving quickly out of the apartment when it was all packed. I swung my tomahawk at it, the blood and brains from its skull spattering all over my face, and kept running to the staircase.

When I reached the bottom of the staircase, I pushed open the door and began to run to the hallway. I stopped, however, when I saw ghouls had begun filtering into the lobby, so instead I ran straight for the glass doors at the front. When I reached the doors, I swung my tomahawk out and broke the glass, closing my eyes tight in case any happened to fly in my face. I jumped through the door and took off across the street, jumping over bodies and dodging ghouls as I went.

There was an alley just twenty feet in front of me, and inside it I could see a fire escape. I picked up my speed, my right ankle throbbing and screaming with each pounding step I took, and threw myself into the alley, feeling the hands of ghouls brushing against my arms as they tried to grab me and make me their next meal. I heard a wet slap behind me, and I quickly turned my head to see what it was. A few of the ghouls had fallen over, and their toppled bodies aided in keeping the other ghouls from reaching me as quickly. _First stroke of luck in how long_? I questioned miserably.

The fire escape was directly in front of me now, and I gripped onto the railing as I pounded up the stairs, looking back every other step. The ghouls were slowly making their way towards me, reaching their arms out and tripping on the stairs as they tried to drag their limp feet over them. I reached the landing and swung myself onto the second staircase, ready to turn and begin swinging my tomahawk when I reached the second landing. The ghouls were beginning to pile up on the stairs, climbing over one another when the one in front fell over. I could hear the groans and snarls getting louder and louder, so when I finally made it to the second landing I didn't even stop; I just kept going.

At the third landing I stopped to catch my breath, watching the bodies of the ghouls piling up yet moving ever closer to me. The one closest to me was missing his lips, along with most of the skin on his left arm. I felt my stomach churn in disgust, bile rising in my throat, and I leaned my head over the railing in case I lost the contents of my stomach. A hand reached out and took hold of my ankle, tugging harshly. I let out a frightened scream and began kicking my foot, hoping to shake the ghoul loose. He wouldn't budge, however, and I began to hack at his arm with my tomahawk. At the third swing his arm came apart, almost tearing apart like tender meat on a bone. The likeness made my stomach churn again and I quickly turned away to run up the stairs. On the very last landing I stopped, looking up to the roof above me, wishing I had a way to get up to it. The next fire escape was too far of a jump, so I quickly disposed of that idea. I had only one choice, and that was to bust the window and find a stairwell to the roof.

Before busting the window and creating a whole lot of noise, I tugged on the frame to see if it was locked. Fortunately it wasn't, and it slid up with ease. I climbed in, my foot catching just slightly on the sill, and pulled the window back down, flicking the lock into place. From the looks of it, I was in what was once a living room. Across the room I could see a door. I quickly and quietly made my way to the door, my free hand gripping the strap of my bag, turning my head every which way to make sure there were no hidden ghouls, and stared out of the peephole. It wasn't much of a vantage point, but it gave me a clear view directly in front of the door, which was empty. The door opened without a sound, and I slowly peered around it into the hallway, the tomahawk gripped tightly in my hand. It was clear to my left, but to my right there were a few bodies lying on the floor, dried blood puddles surrounding them. I felt some fear spike within me, and I contemplated holing myself up in the apartment I was standing in.

_No , you have to find Michelle, _I thought to myself, attempting to give myself some encouragement. With a deep breath I stepped out into the hall, taking a tentative step towards the stairwell at the end of the hall to the left. I looked over my shoulder constantly, watching the bodies lying on the ground with apprehension. When I reached the door, I sent out a silent prayer that it would make no noise, and sure enough it did. It creaked loudly, making me cringe violently, and I spun around to watch the bodies on the ground. They didn't move, however, and I took that as a good sign. I turned back to the door, pushing it open all the way and stepping into the stairwell. It was dark, with the only light coming from the meager amount of sunshine from the hallway behind me. There was just one more flight of stairs before I made it to the roof. I allowed myself to smile as I climbed the stairs quickly, my free hand gliding along the railing of the stairs, and stopped once I reached the door to the roof. It was labeled clearly on the door in big, bold letters that were slowly fading. The door creaked loudly and opened with some difficulty, but I overlooked it all when I stepped out onto the roof, the sun and heat hitting me like a wall. I stood in the doorway for some time, just thinking of where I would go next. I dropped my bag by the door and walked across the roof, my feet thumping heavily on the concrete from exhaustion, the pain in my right ankle now a dull throb. At the edge I peered over, looking at the next building. It was then that my decision sunk in.

_I could have just gone down the stairs_. I slapped a hand over my face, my eyes shutting tightly when I realized just how stupid I was. The stairwell was empty; I could have just walked down and left through the lobby!

Letting out a growl of frustration, I turned on my heel and marched back to the door to make my way down the stairs. When I reached my hand out to the doorknob, however, my knuckles slammed into the door. I stared at the door, confused, as I brought my hand to my chest, my knuckles throbbing still from punching the dresser just earlier in the day. Then I realized the doorknob was missing.

_Of course, _I thought bitterly, _rooftop doors are a one-way thing._ I huffed angrily then leaned against the door, sliding down until my bottom hit the floor. Now I was stuck on the rooftop. I wasn't concerned about ghouls coming up, so I shrugged off the need for weapons other than the pistol I still had and my tomahawk. Seeing as how I had some time to myself, I decided it would be a good time to think things through. How was I going to find Michelle? Where did I start looking for her? Why did I leave her alone? Who would break into the apartment? Was that _her_ blood? Where would we stay now? How would we find supplies? Was she even _alive_?

I dropped my head in between my knees, my hands dangling between my legs, as I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. I needed to slow down and fight one battle at a time. The first thing I needed to take care of was finding Michelle. I wasn't quite sure where I should start, so I figured going to the places we searched for supplies would be a good idea. Well, as long as I got off this damn roof.

The heat was finally getting to me after I sat down long enough. I guess from all the moving I had done earlier I hadn't allowed myself to stop and think about the heat. But now that I was sitting down and panting, my ribs aching and side splitting from over-exertion, I began to realize just how hot it was. There was sweat dripping off my nose, and my choppy hair was plastered to my neck and face. Using the back of my hand, I tried to wipe off as much sweat as I could, but I ended up just smearing dirt and dust that had settled on my skin instead. I tipped my head back against the door, my eyes clenched shut to keep the sun out, and stretched my legs out, my scraped up knee stinging and throbbing in protest, hoping and praying for a breeze to come through and cool me down at least a little. None came through, though.

My first order of business, I decided, was to get off this roof I had trapped myself on. The building next to it—another apartment building—was just slightly shorter than this one, and it was close enough that I could make the jump. I chose to take that route and heaved myself up, brushing my bottom off as I did, and walked over to the edge of the roof. When I looked down, however, I quickly came to the conclusion that I was too chicken-shit to try it. So instead of jumping I walked along the roof, looking for another fire escape to use. The only other fire escape was at the back of the building, where the one I had used was located, and there were still a number of ghouls lingering about. I was now back to square one: jump or wait.

I decided on jumping.

I walked back to the edge, peering over it to the narrow alleyway below, and then tossed my tomahawk to the other side. It landed with a loud clang, and I cringed as I considered the possibility of ghouls hearing it. Then I worried about it breaking on the concrete and rendering the entire thing useless. Remembering my bag, I turned on my heel and walked back to the door, snatching it up by its straps, and walked back the edge of the building. I held up under my chin, my hand firmly grasping the plastic-like material, and tossed it to the other side. It landed with a thud, sliding a few inches, on the other side of the ledge. I cursed under my breath and backed up a few paces to give myself a running start. My heart began to thump wildly as I came to terms with the fact that I would be jumping rooftops. I shook my body to release the jitters I was experiencing and took a few steadying, deep breaths. Finally I deemed myself ready—well, as ready as I would ever be before jumping from one building to another—and took off, breathing as evenly as I could as I ran to the edge.

Once I neared it, however, I began to skid to a messy stop, falling onto my side and sliding my legs on the concrete, no doubt scraping up my legs. I cursed loudly, slamming my fist down onto the ground and resting my forehead on it as I let a few terrified tears slip out. After a minute or two of crying and fearing for my life, I picked myself up and walked back to my starting spot again, shaking my limbs out and taking deep breaths. I tried to think positive thoughts as I stared at the adjacent rooftop, but when I couldn't hold on to any, I decided then was a good time to get it over with before I talked myself out of it completely.

I took off for the edge, my feet slamming against the concrete, and stepped onto the ledge, bringing my other foot forward and pushing off, sending my body hurtling through the air. As stupid as it was, I looked down, my heart almost exploding as I saw how far of a drop it was, and I began to flail my limbs as my body plummeted to the ground. For a moment I felt a new fear roll through me as I thought I was going to miss the edge, but it settled when my body passed over it to the rooftop, my feet soon hitting the ground afterwards. _Tuck and roll, right?_

I tried my hardest to do that very thing, just like I'd heard in so many movies, but I couldn't do it in time so I ended up landing hard on my side, my body rolling and sliding along the concrete. I could feel my skin being shredded, the dirt particles burying themselves in the scrapes, and I let out a sharp cry of pain with each new wound. When I finally stopped I allowed myself to just lie on the ground, my breathing ragged and shallow, as I felt waves of stinging pain roll over my body. Just thinking about moving hurt, and I decided then to just lay down for a few minutes to get myself together. The pain was horrible. If it was just one scraped limb, it would have been bearable, but seeing as how it was most of my arms and legs, along with some of my face, it practically paralyzed me.

About twenty minutes later—twenty minutes of tensing my body with each wave of pain and squeezing out fat, hot tears—I began to pull myself up very slowly, my arms shaking and throbbing. I looked over my shoulder towards the edge and saw my tomahawk glinting dully in the sun, then made an attempt to crawl over to it. My knees were scraped the hell, unfortunately, and crawling on them felt like a million needles embedding themselves in my flesh. I gripped the handle of my tomahawk and used the end as a means of helping myself up, my other hand reaching out to steady myself on an electrical box. The box seared my hand, however, and I yanked it away immediately, shaking it to cool it off. I finally pulled myself to my feet, my legs and arms shaking, and turned in a circle, trying to find a way off of this roof. I found the stairwell settled in the middle of the roof, and I hurried over to it, limping along the way. Just as I reached the door, however, it burst open, and I dropped my tomahawk onto the concrete before falling onto my bottom. I tried to scramble backwards, but my hands were so scraped up that it just caused even more pain. A man came out of the stairwell, a baseball cap resting on his head and a canvas bag on his back. He stopped when he saw me, his eyes widening when he recognized who I was.

"Catherine," he said breathily, his eyes swooping over my face, arms, and legs. I could see his hand grip his baseball bat just a little tighter. "What happened to you?"

"Glenn!" I exclaimed, my heart picking up at the thought of having someone with me. I looked down at myself when his question registered in my mind, frowning miserably when I saw a few tears in my leggings and the blood staining my arms and legs. Shaking my head slowly, I said, "I was running from some ghouls. Trapped myself on the rooftop over there…"

I pointed to the building next to us, my voice trailing off. After a moment I looked back up to him and finished my sentence. "I jumped over here. Didn't land right. Scraped myself up real good."

He stared down at me pitifully, his eyes softening as his body relaxed. I could tell he was scared the ghouls had gotten me.

"That sucks," he commented, not knowing what to say. He stepped out of the doorway, keeping a hand on the door, and bent over to pick up a brick that was lying on the ground to stuff it between the door and doorframe. He bent over then to help me up, picking up my tomahawk in the process for me. "You have some balls, though, jumping across like that. I woulda pissed myself."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes, and took the tomahawk from him, tucking it into my utility belt.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him, gesturing to the city.

"Came in for supplies," he said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. "We need more food. Some medical supplies couldn't hurt, also."

He stopped then, looking around me with what looked like concern and confusion. "Where's Michelle?"

I felt my mood instantly sour, the sorrow rising up and creating tears that threatened to spill over onto my cheeks. "I don't know. She went missing. I went out to look for supplies and when I came back our hide out had been ransacked and she was gone."

Glenn stared at me through wide eyes that shone with concern. "Oh, Catherine, I'm so sorry. Maybe I could help you? Do you have any idea where she _might_ be?"

I shook my head, my shoulders slumping in defeat. "I was going to check all of the places we've gathered supplies at once I got off this roof."

He nodded his head thoughtfully, narrowing his eyes as he thought over something. "Do you think she may have hidden somewhere else near your hideout?"

I thought about it for a moment, then realized I had never thought of that. "Well, we were staying in an apartment complex, and I was yelling her name. I think she would have come out when she heard me. But I hadn't thought of that."

Glenn nodded again, his hand coming up to scratch at the back of his head. He looked to his left, peering at the edge of the building. "Would you like me to help you look for her? I mean, I won't be able to help for very long, but it's better than just one pair of eyes searching, right?"

I nodded slowly, my lips pursing as I tried to smile. "Yeah, thanks. You don't have to, you know."

He shook his head quickly, his mouth forming an _o_. "No, no, no! I-I wanna help!"

My brow furrowed slightly, regarding him with curiosity. "Why?"

"Because if I ever go missing, I'd want people looking for me," he said, chuckling nervously.

* * *

**Fun Fact: **Daryl Dixon (Norman Reedus) uses a specific type of crossbow: a Horton Scout HD 125. It retails for about $300.00 (US) and Reedus has said that he takes it home with him after filming.


	4. The First 48

**A/N:** Sorry it took so long to update. Normally I rush through writing my chapters, but I decided with this story, I'm going to take things slow. I want to make sure the chapter will be as good as it possibly can be. Anyway, thanks to everyone who has reviewed and added this story to their follow/favorites. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Walking Dead. I only own my OCs. Back off.

* * *

_The First 48  
_

Glenn and I left the rooftop, making our way slowly down the stairs to the ground level. He was practically carrying me; my arms and knees were scraped to hell, and every step I took felt like someone was bashing my knees in with a hammer. My right ankle was still throbbing, too, and the pain only seemed to get worse as I continued to walk on it. When we reached the ground level, I asked Glenn to stop so I could rest. I limped over to a couch that was sitting in front of the entrance and collapsed onto it, the force of my body throwing dust into the air and making me cough.

"Are you alright?" Glenn asked worriedly as he rounded the couch to look at me. I was laid back, slouching down to keep my legs as straight as possible. "Catherine? Are you okay?"

I groaned quietly as I stretched my legs out and then looked up at him, breathing heavily and giving him a weak smile.

"Yeah," I breathed, letting my body relax. "It's just that everything hurts. I haven't really given myself a chance to rest properly since I came to the city. Add the exhaustion and body aches to my new injuries, and it feels like I'm dying."

Glenn nodded understandingly, then sat on the couch next to me, balancing his bat on his lap. We sat in silence for a moment, both of us staring out of the glass doors in front of the couch we were sitting on. After a minute, he broke the silence.

"I delivered pizzas before the world went to shit," he stated quietly, almost thoughtfully. I turned my head to look at him, thoroughly confused. He noticed my confusion and elaborated, "I just think it's funny, you know? Glenn Rhee, pizza delivery boy, has lasted longer than most of the military during the apocalypse."

There was a pause as he chuckled derisively to himself, rolling his eyes dramatically in the process. He looked at me again. "What did you do before—you know—_this?_"

I scoffed, the noise barely audible, then said, "I was a doctor."

It was his turn to scoff, then. Glenn rose from the couch, helping me up afterwards, and strode to the entrance, muttering, "No wonder _you_ made it this far."

There was a sour smile on my face as we walked out onto the street, looking both ways nervously in case any ghouls were wandering about. When we saw none, Glenn and I scurried to the end of the street, hiding behind a car to come up with a plan.

"Where was the first place you guys stayed at when you came into the city?" Glenn asked, his voice just above a whisper. I was just about to answer when a small movement inside the car caught my attention. When whatever it was didn't move again, I answered his question.

"A restaurant," I replied just as quietly.

He nodded, then asked, "Do you remember what that restaurant was called?"

I thought for a moment, trying to recall the name that was printed on the window and on all of the menus. Just before I answered, I saw more movement in the car.

"I think it was called JoJo's," I replied, squinting my eyes as I tried to look inside the vehicle. "I think I saw something move inside the car."

Glenn looked into the window, pressing his face against the glass to see inside through the dirt and dust that had gathered over the months. Suddenly a hand slammed against it, scaring Glenn and I. Glenn jumped back with a yelp, sliding across the sidewalk on his bottom. The ghoul inside the car clawed at the window, moaning and groaning and snarling. I handed my tomahawk over to Glenn, nodding at the ghoul and reasoning, "It gets the job done quicker and is quieter."

He nodded quickly then snatched the weapon from my bloody, dirty hand. His feet moved slowly and uncertainly as he shuffled to the car. With his free hand he gripped the handle of the door and opened it swiftly, moving out of the way as the ghoul toppled out onto the street. He raised the tomahawk into the air then forcefully brought it back down, driving the blade into the ghoul's head. He did it one more time for good measure, then stoop up straight, panting heavily.

"Let's go look for your niece," he suggested, looking at me with fear and worry. I nodded furiously then hurried over to him, my knees and ankle screaming in protest, and exchanged weapons.

We arrived at the restaurant a few minutes later. I pulled Glenn into an alley and led him to the back door of the establishment. There were a few ghouls roaming about in the alley, and I helped Glenn dispose of them. The back door opened easily and I held it open for him. He stopped just inside the doorway and took off his backpack to rifle through it, pulling a small flashlight out from its depths a few seconds later. Once his bag was shouldered again, he turned on the flashlight and shone it around the kitchen.

"It smells really bad in here," he murmured, hesitantly stepping further into the room. The beam from the flashlight illuminated the grime-covered appliances, showing us just how filthy the room was. I felt my stomach church when the light revealed a body covered in maggots. Glenn turned his head up towards the ceiling, muttering despairingly under his breath.

"I can't believe I took food from here," I whined, covering my mouth and nose with my shirt. Glenn gagged in front of me, leaning over and heaving, though nothing came up.

"Gross," he mumbled, shaking his head to clear the smell up. "You didn't actually eat it, did you?"

I was silent, my face turning red from disgust and embarrassment. He looked back at me and groaned, his face scrunching up with disgust.

"It was packaged!" I reasoned, my tone high pitched.

We searched the kitchen, stepping over bodies and praying they would not reach up and grab our ankles, looking in cabinets and storage rooms; Glenn even looked in the ovens and freezer. The fact that he looked in those places frightened me. _Good thing there's no more power_, I thought morbidly, images of what could happen if there had been power running through my mind.

The kitchen came up empty so we cautiously made our way into the front of the building, checking first for any bodies or ghouls. We came across some bodies, but they were dead. Glenn and I checked under every table, behind every counter, and in every room and section in the restaurant. It was still empty, though.

"Shit!" I muttered, kicking a chair with the foot that contained my bad ankle. I wasn't prepared for the pain that shot up my leg, starting first at my ankle and spreading out over my foot. A string of curses flew out of my mouth as I hopped around before finally falling back onto a chair. I could hear Glenn snickering from my left, so I shot him a glare. He tried his hardest to keep from laughing, so he turned away, clearing his throat as he did so. He turned back to me, his hand held up as he looked at a watch on his wrist.

"It's almost lunchtime," he said, his voice sounding a bit sad. He lowered his hand and looked at me apologetically. "I still need to gather supplies for my group. You need something to clean those scrapes, too."

I nodded and rose slowly from my seat, being cautious of my throbbing ankle and still stinging knees. Glenn and I regrettably exited through the kitchen, desperately trying not to vomit as we hurried to the backdoor. Out in the alley, we paused to check for any ghouls that may have wandered in. We both breathed out a sigh of relief when there was only one ghoul shambling about, groaning and turning its head periodically. Glenn nodded his head in the opposite direction and whispered, "There's a pharmacy down the road that way. Next to it is a supermarket. After this we'll head to wherever you're gonna stay."

He did not wait for me to nod or give any kind of sign of agreement; instead, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the alley, heading towards the street. I wasn't too fond of the idea of going back onto one of the main streets, but I figured Glenn knew what he was doing. We crossed the street without any surprises and ran to a small shop with the words "_24-hr Pharmacy_" printed on the windows. Glenn peered through the door then opened it, stepping in first to survey the area. I watched him walk further into the pharmacy, my anxiety building because I could no longer see him in the dim lighting. Relief washed over me, however, when he appeared in front of me again, beckoning me inside the store. I followed him inside, holding onto the walls heavily as the throbbing in my ankle and the pain in my knees had gotten worse. Glenn cast me a worried glance before rushing around to gather supplies.

"Might as well get what you need," he suggested, nodding to the shelves. I nodded and reached down to my side for my bag only to stop when I realized it wasn't strapped to my chest. I frantically looked around for the bag, panic setting in when I become conscious of the fact that I'd left it on the rooftop.

"What's wrong?" Glenn questioned nervously, no doubt thinking a ghoul was in the store.

"I left my bag on the roof of that building," I groaned, sighing exasperatedly and resting my hands on my hips. "It had food in it for Michelle and I!"

Glenn gave me a look of annoyance as he shook his head, taking a deep breath. "Okay, well get what you need. There should be bags in here somewhere. We'll go back and get your bag after we go to the supermarket."

I nodded sheepishly and began to limp through the aisles, grabbing boxes of pads and tampons from the shelves. _Better stock up now_, I thought sardonically. I had just turned down an aisle containing vitamins and pain relievers when I caught sight of some bags. Grabbing a few off the hooks on the shelves, I shoved my supplies into one and kept browsing, grabbing a few bottles of vitamins and ibuprofen as I limped along.

As I moved through the aisles, I kept noticing how neat and orderly everything was. The store was untouched when we came in, and while most would think of that as a good thing, I was deeply unnerved by it. I decided to voice my concern to Glenn. "I wonder why this place looks so…normal."

Glenn's head perked up from behind the counter, his eyes looking over the store. He shrugged his shoulders dismissively and said, "Probably 'cause this place is almost in the middle of the city. There's more geeks around here. A smart person wouldn't risk coming this far in."

I snorted, a wry smile on my face, and asked, "Does that mean we're dumb?"

He looked back up at me, his face thoughtful, and shrugged. He chuckled and said, "I guess so, huh?"

I smiled at him and went back to browsing, gazing out of the window every once in a while to make sure no ghouls were wondering too close to the store. As soon as Glenn and I were done gathering supplies at the pharmacy and supermarket, we back tracked to the building I had left my bag at. The run there was quick and uneventful, which was something I was thankful for. There were a few ghouls lingering in front of the entrance, and since I felt a little guilty that Glenn had come back with me, I took care of them for him. Once the bag was in my hand, I grabbed his arm and dragged him down the stairs.

"Where's this apartment you guys were staying at?" Glenn asked, pulling his arm from my hand so he could adjust his bag. I paused at the next landing to catch my breath and give my ankle a rest. Glenn was leaning against the wall, watching me curiously. "How's your ankle? I noticed you've been limping. Did something happen?"

I exhaled loudly and waved my hand dismissively. After the pain in my ankle was bearable, I replied, "Some girl stole all of the supplies I had gathered this morning. I chased her for a while, but she got away. Ghouls had gathered by then. Hurt it while jumping off a dumpster."

Glenn chuckled dryly, giving me a sympathetic smile, and remarked, "You're having all kind of bad luck today, aren't you?"

I snorted, shaking my head and looking up towards the ceiling. "Yeah, but I guess everyone is, aren't they?"

Glenn became quiet, his face solemn. He shrugged, the movement weak, and said, "Yeah, they are."

We continued down the stairs, stopping once again at the entrance to sit on the couch.

"Okay, so how do we get to this apartment?" Glenn asked again as he sat down. I craned my neck to look out of the entrance, hoping to remember which direction I'd come from.

"There's an alley on the other side of the building over there," I replied, motioning towards the street and to my left. He followed my hand gesture, nodding thoughtfully. I continued to tell him the route. "I came from behind the building. Right across the street is the apartment."

Glenn's eyes widened and he quickly turned his body in the direction I'd indicated.

"You were that close?" he asked incredulously. I nodded slowly. "Holy shit, I thought you were gonna tell me you were halfway across the city."

I chuckled airily at his comment, shaking my head, then pushed myself off of the couch, limping towards the entrance. As I stared out of the glass, I noticed a few ghouls were roaming around. Glenn came up next to me, observing the street also.

"We're gonna need to go through the alleys," I announced, craning my neck to see what the end of the street looked like. I pursed my lips and scratched at my neck nervously when I saw a horde of ghouls shambling about. "Normally I'd be okay with going around, but my bum ankle and messed up knees aren't going to make it. Plus, there's too many ghouls on the street."

Glenn nodded and turned away, grabbing up his bags and gathering mine together for me. He stopped suddenly, his hands fidgeting with the straps of our bags, then quietly said, "I'm sorry we couldn't find Michelle."

I felt a lump rise in my throat and tears spring to my eyes, but I roughly wiped away any that spilled over. Taking a deep breath I replied, "Don't worry about it. I'll find her. Tomorrow; I'll find her tomorrow."

Glenn was quiet for a moment before I heard the bags rustling, announcing that he was ready to leave. I turned slowly and followed after him, tears still threatening to spill over onto my grimy cheeks.

We walked by the staircase, moving towards the back of the building. Glenn stopped in front of a large, metal door that read in bold, red letters, '_Emergency Exit ONLY, Alarm WILL Sound'_. He pushed on the door, turning back to grin at me when no alarm began to wail. I let out an un-ladylike snort and rolled my eyes at him.

"You really thought some alarm would go off?" I asked mockingly, raising a brow at him. He shrugged simply, a silly grin plastered on his face, and peered out into the alley. With a wave of his hand and a nod of his head, we scampered out into the alley, taking a sharp right.

When we arrived at the alley that I had come from, we stopped and hid behind the buildings, checking both ways for stray ghouls. The alley was clear both ways, and we rushed down the left side, hiding behind a dumpster to watch the street. Just across the way we could see ghouls wandering about, but the numbers were small enough that we'd be able to make it by. Glenn looked to me and quietly counted to three, taking off towards the street when he reached the last number. I followed behind him a second later.

As soon as we stepped out onto the sidewalk, however, we both let out a startled yelp when a ghoul snarled right next to Glenn's face, its arms reaching out to take hold of him. I swung my arm out, tomahawk in hand, and drove the spiked end into its skull. We ducked back into the alley—each of us on either side—and waited, hoping no other ghouls saw us.

"I think it's clear," Glenn said quietly, nodding his head towards the street. I nodded my head quickly and watched him scurry out into the street, his bat held tightly in his hand. Swallowing my fear and gathering my bags, I took off after him, constantly looking around at the ghouls on the main road. Glenn stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, waiting for me to catch up so I could point him in the direction of the apartment complex. As I neared his side I pointed it out, telling him to check the lobby for any ghouls.

"When I left some ghouls had made their way in," I explained, panting heavily. There was a stitch in my side, and my knees and ankle were ready to give out. "I must have left the back door open when I ran in."

He nodded and led the way to the building, peeking into the glass windows.

"It's clear," he announced, moving quickly towards the entrance. I moved in after him and took the lead when he paused in the middle of the lobby, leading him straight to the stairs. I trudged up the steps, the pain in my ankle growing worse by the minute, and pushed on the stairwell door, holding it open for Glenn. I nodded towards the apartment, raising my tomahawk at it lazily.

"That one there," I said, gasping desperately. He gave me a worried look then followed behind me as I lead him to the door.

When we were inside the apartment, Glenn stood by the island in the kitchen, taking in the mess around us. He looked at the busted in door, scrutinizing the lock carefully. "Whoever opened this door was desperate."

I looked back at him from the seat I had taken on the couch, and asked, "How do you know?"

"They shot the locks off," he replied, pointing to the two gaping holes in the door. "Most people know not to fire off their guns. It attracts the geeks. The chain is also broken. There was more than one person, I'm guessing."

I groaned miserably, hanging my head between my knees. "Not helping, Glenn!"

He muttered an apology then put his things down on the couch Michelle had been sleeping on before she went missing.

"You need to clean your cuts," he suggested, motioning towards my arms. I nodded absently and began going through my bags, looking for a bottle of peroxide. When I finally found it, I ripped the seal off and began drizzling it onto my arms, sucking in a breath at the tiny pins and needles that assaulted my flesh. Next were my knees, and I watched numbly as the ugly scrapes turned into masses of pink, bubbly foam. Glenn helped me bandage myself up, then began dabbing the peroxide onto my face. After I was all cleaned up, Glenn gathered his things, announcing his need to return to his camp by sunset.

"You're sure you don't want to come?" he questioned, his voice pleading. I nodded my head, insisting I stay at the apartment, just in case.

Glenn nodded solemnly, then made for the door, turning back just slightly to softly say, "You'll find her Catherine."

I nodded softly, then listened as I heard him open the stairwell door and begin descending the stairs.

* * *

**Fun Fact: **Zombies in TWD are never referred to as 'zombies.' There are different terms used for them, especially in the comics, with walkers being the most prevalent. They're known as roamers, lurkers, floaters, 'the herd,' and biters. In the show, the characters T-Dog and Glenn often refer to them as geeks.


	5. Alone

**A/N:** Woohoo! New chapter! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story and added it to their favorites/follows. I'm sorry the title/chapter titles/summary has changed so much; I'm done doing that, I promise! I've also started posting this story on Mibba and WalkingDeadFanfiction, so if you guys prefer those sites, I'll put my usernames down at the bottom, under the fun fact!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Walking Dead or any of its characters. I can't think of anything witty to say here.

* * *

_Alone  
_

A few minutes after Glenn left, I hobbled to the doorway to replace the broken door. Dragging an armchair from the living room to the door, I used it to barricade the entrance. It really didn't make me feel safer, but it was better than sleeping with the door wide open. When the chair was resting securely against the door, I limped my way back to the couch to find something to eat; I finally settled on a can of corn and a package of Twinkies. As I ate my meager dinner, I thought of Michelle's chances of being alive. Realistically, I knew her chances were slim to none, but I was willing to hold on to the "slim" part of the situation. Michelle may very well be the last family I had left, and I was not ready to accept the fact that she may be gone. I could feel a lump forming in my throat, and I willingly let the tears come. A few months ago, I was living comfortably in my beachfront condo in sunny Florida with my fiancée, and now I was lying on the couch of some dead family's home, hoping I didn't get eaten in my sleep. After Michelle and I had come into Atlanta to find it overrun, I had decided we were going to continue on to Mississippi to find more of our family. I still wanted to get out of the city, I just wasn't sure if going to Mississippi was a good idea—the chances of anyone in my family still being alive was slim. My mind wandered back to Michelle; if she was alive, where was she? Who was she with, and were they taking care of her?

Dread settled within me when scenarios of what could be happening to Michelle flashed through my mind. _Oh, God,_ I thought hopelessly, my tears turning into choking sobs, _what if whoever took her is a rapist or sadist_? Nausea rose up in my throat as I imagined my little niece, poor, defenseless little Michelle, at the mercy of some deranged man, scared and crying for her parents or myself. I'd seen enough post-apocalypse movies to know that regular people were to be feared in the wake of a catastrophe of this magnitude. Another image of what Michelle may be going through flashed through my mind, and I quickly rolled over to spill the contents of my stomach onto the dusty, dirty hardwood flooring of the apartment. When my body stopped convulsing, I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling through bleary eyes, sniffling pitifully and gagging from the taste of vomit. I was never someone who could handle vomiting. Of course, I never vomited very often, but when I did, I sobbed like some pathetic, drunk girl who lost her shoes.

In an attempt to calm myself down enough to sleep somewhat peacefully, I thought of all the happy memories I had. The day I graduated high school. The day I earned my doctorate. The day I lost my virginity. The first time I went to Disney World. The day Michelle was born.

As I began to feel myself drifting into sleep, I sent up a silent prayer for Michelle's safety and let myself succumb to some much needed rest.

I woke the next day to the sun streaming through the windows across from the couch I was using as a makeshift bed. There was an overwhelming stench of stale vomit, and I screwed my face up in disgust as I covered my nose and mouth with my hand. Sidestepping the pile of dried vomit, I began packing up my bags, hoping to shove everything into two or three bags. I was able to succeed, but just barely. When I was packed up, I spread my map of the city out onto the kitchen island, a breakfast of bottled water and green beans resting beside me, and began to look for a new place to call home. The soreness in my ankle seemed worse today, and it was stiff beyond belief. As I stood at the counter, I rotated my foot a few times, hoping to stretch it out and loosen the nerves. The scrapes on my arms, knees, and face were scabbing over already, the skin still tender but covered in dark red to black scabs.

There were a few places I circled on the map, buildings that were close to the apartment complex I was currently in, and I quickly drew up a route in red marker. I tried looking at places closer to the edge of the city, and I began circling them for reference. My eyes wandered to the windows looking out onto the street below, and I hesitantly made my way to them. The street was mostly empty save for a few dead bodies lying around and burned out vehicles sitting in the middle of the street. I made my way back to the map and quickly traced a route out to a department store near the edge of the city. After going through the route a few times, I folded the map up and stuffed it into one of my bags, then strapped my pistol to my waist, picking up my tomahawk afterwards to head out the door.

The hallway was empty, obviously, and I hobbled to the stairwell door as quickly as I could, pushing on the cool metal surface and beginning my descent down the stairs. I stopped at the door leading to the lobby, taking a moment to give my ankle a rest and peer out of the tiny window to look for any ghouls. When I deemed the coast clear, I slipped out of the door and scurried to the back of the building, hoping and praying the alley was clear. Unfortunately, it wasn't, and I was met with the sight of three ghouls shuffling about in the alley. Letting out a silent curse, I repositioned my bags and gripped my tomahawk tightly in my hand then stepped out of the doorway, creeping slowly down the alley. When the first ghoul caught sight of me, the other two began shambling towards me, their arms outstretched to try and grab me. I swung my tomahawk at the first ghoul, impaling its skull with the spiked end of my weapon. The spike was lodged too deep, however, and when the ghoul fell, it almost took me with it. A string of panicked curses flew from my mouth as I braced my foot against the ghoul's head, tugging on my weapon with all my might. Just as the second ghoul reached me, I pulled the spike free and went staggering backwards, my feet trying to find some sort of grip on the pavement. When I finally caught my balance, I stepped forward and swung my tomahawk at the next ghoul, using the blade instead, and then swung at the last one, the three bodies piling on top of each other.

Sparing one last terrified look at the ghouls, I took off down the alley, praying that I would make it to my destination in one piece.

As luck would have it, I did make it to the new place unscathed. I originally intended on going to a department store, but I quickly changed my mind when I saw a row of townhouses lining the street leading up to it. Picking the one that seemed the least messed up, I quickly dashed up the short flight of stairs to the front door, my hand closing around the knob. The handle turned, and I let out a quick breath of relief before throwing myself into the house, shutting the door quietly behind me and locking it up good and tight. After allowing myself a moment to get my bearings, I fished a flashlight out of my bag and turned it on, shining it around the hallway I was standing in. When I determined that it was clear, I tiptoed to living room on my right, peering cautiously around the archway into the dusty room. I saw no movement so I then stepped into the room and made my way to the next archway, tilting my head to the side to peek into the kitchen. It was, once again, clear, and I moved on to the closets in the hallway I came through, throwing the doors open and flying back to avoid anything that came jumping out at me.

When I officially declared the downstairs safe, I reluctantly checked upstairs, opening every door and praying to God that nothing was going to jump out at me. I felt like a teenager again, watching scary movies with my friends. I was never a fan of them; I usually hid behind someone or a pillow until the movie ended. I moved all of my supplies into the kitchen, piling them on top of the round breakfast table and picking out a lunch.

"Green beans it is," I grumbled, rifling through the drawers for a can opener. When I finished my lunch, I grabbed two duffel bags and looped them around my body so I could go out to scavenge for supplies. When I stepped outside, I picked up the doormat to check for an extra key only to find the bare concrete. There was a potted plant to the left of the door and I began to dig through it, taking a quick peek over my shoulder every few seconds to make sure no ghouls had spotted me yet. I found the key buried in the soil, and when I had it clasped in my fingers, I shoved it into the dead bolt and locked the house up.

I hopped down the stairs—literally—and hid behind a car about ten feet away, peering through the busted in windows at the ghouls roaming the street. I was closer to the highway, so the ghouls were larger in number, all clustering around on the main roads and blocking the intersections. The sun was beating down on my back as I observed the ghouls, sweat forming quickly on my brow and running down the sides of my face. There was an opening in the cluster of ghouls, and when they all had their backs turned to me, I dashed across the street, trying desperately not to let my bum ankle drag across the asphalt. When I came upon the sidewalk, my foot caught on the edge and I went tumbling forward, slamming into a bunch of metal garbage cans. As the metallic clangs echoed through the dense Georgia air, I cringed visibly, hissing in pain and then cursing loudly when I turned around to see all of the ghouls shambling towards me. I grabbed my tomahawk, which had flown out of my hand when I went crashing into the bins, and pushed myself up, the concrete digging into the palms of my hands like thick needles. The snarling of the ghouls was magnified as they all joined together, shambling towards me like some flash mob, and their chaotic footsteps echoed up and down the street. They were closing in from all sides, and as I realized that I may die, my heartbeat picked up and I began to hyperventilate. Just as a ghoul was reaching its decaying hand out towards my shoulder, I launched myself into the alley directly in front of me, zigzagging around the dumpsters and trash cans, and turned right down the long passageway between the buildings, grabbing hold of a fire escape and throwing my tomahawk up onto the first landing. My breathing was uneven, and my body was becoming winded already from weeks of exhaustion. When I reached the first landing, I swept my tomahawk up and slammed it into the nearest window then climbed through, ignoring the glass that was making new cuts and opening the old ones on my arms and legs. I ran through the room I was in—it was a bedroom, from what I gathered—and flew down the stairs two at a time to throw open the front door and continue on down the street.

I refused to look behind me as I sprinted down the street towards the department store. The pain in my ankle was to the point where if I allowed myself to stop, I would surely collapse with no hope of getting back up. There was sweat streaming down my face and arms, stinging my scrapes and cuts with its saltiness. As I neared the main road, I noticed ghouls were clogging up the street, giving me no room to cut through. I turned to duck into another alley, only to be met with a tall, chain link fence. I pushed at it, causing it to rattle in response. A quick look to the road let me know that a few ghouls had begun making their way towards me, and there were some filtering in from the alleys I had come through. I pulled at the fence out of anger and surprised myself when it slid back, opening just wide enough for me to slip through. After a moment of staring dumbfounded at the fence, I squeezed through and pulled the fence shut, then turned around to take off down the alley.

The rattling of the fence as ghouls threw themselves on it echoed throughout the alley, making me cringe inwardly when I thought they had somehow opened it. I stopped at the end of the alley and looked back, holding my breath out of fear, and saw that the ghouls were piling up, but had not figured out how to open the fence. I let out a whooshing breath and stood in my spot, hunched over slightly while I allowed myself to calm down. My foot was aching something awful, so I tried to take some of the weight off of it by leaning against the wall of the building next to me. The ghouls were shaking the fence, snarling and roaring at me, and with their numbers, it sounded like they were right next to me. For some reason, I felt a lump forming in my throat, and I tried my hardest not to cry, but the tears came anyway, streaming down my face and burning the scrapes and cuts I'd earned over the past day.

I knew I shouldn't think it, but I hated life. Sure, I was still alive, but just barely. My niece was still missing, and I had no idea where to look. Before I could let the tears take over completely, I straightened myself up and took a deep breath, then began limping through the alleys for an entrance to the department store. I unfortunately could not find one going directly into the store, so I doubled back the way I came, sticking to the alleys and making as little noise as possible.

I ended up in a pawn shop that was sandwiched between a small grocery store and an electronics store. I raided the grocery store, taking out every packaged item on the shelves and stuffing it into those cloth bags they sell for almost a penny a piece. The electronics store didn't have much to offer, but I still went in to look around at something that was reminiscent of the old world. When I walked in, however, I was sorely disappointed to find that someone—or multiple people, really—had looted the store and took almost everything with them. I scoffed at the idiocy of those people, knowing they had taken useless items from a store that no longer had any relevancy in this new world we lived in. With that thought in mind, I turned on my heel and made my way back to the pawn shop, using the back alley as my entrance. After transferring all of my food items to the duffel bags, my next order of business was reinforcing the door to the shop. I didn't want any Tom, Dick, or Harry to come strolling through and steal my stuff, so I looked around for the rope to pull the shutters down on the windows and door. As I was peering around, something on the street a few yards away caught my attention. Upon closer inspection I realized it was a duffel bag. It was black and seemed to be stuffed full of items. On it in yellow lettering was the word '_Sherriff_,' and sticking out of it was an assortment of rifles and shotguns.

I had no idea how to shoot a gun—hell, I didn't even know how to _hold_ one properly—but I knew that I had to learn someday. Those guns could be of use to me one day, and I'd be damned if I just left them there. There was a group of ghouls hovering nearby, digging their hands and teeth into some poor schmuck. I hadn't noticed it before, seeing as I had come from the alleys and stayed away from the windows. Those guns were just lying on the street, taunting me. I was close enough that I could slip out and grab them, but I knew it'd be risky, and I was not willing to die just yet. So instead of pulling the shutters down, I left them open, choosing to take a seat on an empty shelf and stare out at the street, my eyes glued to that black bag of guns. I wasn't quite sure how I was going to transport everything once I got my hands on the bag. My supplies were all packed into two duffel bags that were hard enough to carry already, and an Adidas backpack. I figured I could just carry the bag in my hand, but that may be a little tricky if I'm stuck in a tight situation.

For the next few minutes I pondered my situation, my eyes still stuck on that bag in the street. A few of the ghouls had stopped feasting on the body in the street, and I was now able to tell it was a horse. _Maybe whoever dropped the bag came in on the horse_? I felt some pity swell up inside of me when I thought of the poor horse being taken down by a mass of ghouls, and even more so when I thought of what must have happened to its former owner.

Around sunset I decided to retreat to the back area of the pawn shop. The door leading to it needed a key to be locked, and when I tried to open it, it wouldn't budge, so I searched around the register and door for a hook or drawer. I finally found one under the first register, shut away in a small tin box. After unlocking the door, I slipped into the back room and fished out my flashlight, turning it on once it was in my hand to check the area for any stray ghouls. The room came up empty, so I decided to find somewhere semi-comfortable to sleep. The only item remotely comfortable was a chair, so I dragged it over to a box and set my bags down beside it, plopping down and resting my feet on the box. It was nowhere near as comfortable as a bed, but it would have to do until I could find a sleeping bag and some pillows. I had a hard time falling asleep because the chair was so stiff and had almost no cushioning on it whatsoever, so I spent my time staring up at the black ceiling above me, thinking of ways to acquire the bag of guns on the street. If there were still a few ghouls on the street by the time I woke up, I decided I would wait until midday to see if they would wander off; if there were more than a few ghouls out on the street, then I'd have to wait another day, which was something I really did not want to do.

When I finally fell asleep, it was restless, uncomfortable, and plagued by a nightmare. I was sitting in my living room back at my condo, watching the waves crash over the jagged rocks on the beach. It was sunny outside, and the blue Florida sky was dotted with a few fluffy clouds, which made it the perfect beach weather. I was sitting on the couch, and everything in the house was silent; even the waves made no sound as they rolled over the rocks on the shore. It was strange; I could see the waves and feel the breeze, but there was absolutely no sound. As I watched the waves rolling up onto the shore and retreating back to the ocean, I noticed the water began to change color. It began as a beautiful turquoise, then slowly changed into a dark brown before becoming a dark, crimson red. As confusion began to settle over me, the waves rolled closer and closer to my home until the sea of red began to rush into my living room, staining my pristine couches and wood flooring, the coppery scent of blood assaulting my nostrils. I tried to get up to run for higher ground, but my body was paralyzed it seemed; no matter how hard I tried to move, it felt like some unmovable force was holding me down.

Panic washed over me, causing my heart to beat wildly in my chest. I wasn't sure what to do with myself now, and I watched helplessly as the red sea flowed around my ankles, staining my skin and leaving behind that horrible, copper scent. I then realized this was not some freaky red water, it was _blood_. At my sudden realization nausea built up in the pits of my stomach, slowly rising through my throat only to get caught there. The blood kept rising until it completely filled the living room, leaving just my now thrashing head above its surface. I tried so hard to move my body, but it just wouldn't budge, no matter what I tried. As I was jerking my head around, something in front of me caught my eye and instantly sent terrified shivers down my spine. Out of the thick, undulating sea of blood came a hand, its fingers curled slightly in and coated in the viscous substance. As it emerged, another hand came to the surface, followed by three more, all slowly rising, their fingers curling in and shaking violently. A strangled scream choked its way out of my throat, and I began desperately trying to move anything other than my head. The hands were just floating above the surface, shaking and flinging the warm blood all over my face, mixing with my sweat and tears. I felt trapped, suffocated, and sick. While I tried to contain the contents of my stomach, a round object began to float up to the surface of the blood. As it continued to emerge, I realized it was a head, and I tried to move my own away from it. When it was completely exposed, my eyes widened in fear when I saw that it was my sister. Her eyes were closed and her face was still. I tried to call out her name, but no sound came out of my mouth. I continued screaming for her, the hot, fat tears rolling over my cheeks until her name _finally_ came shrieking from my lips. Her eyes opened, and I was met with the glazed, yellow eyes of the ghouls that haunted the world outside my dream.

When I awoke, my heart was pounding in my chest, threatening to send me into cardiac arrest. The first thing I did was attempt to move my limbs. A sigh of relief whooshed out of my mouth when I was able to move my entire body. I slowly stood up, my body aching and cracking in places I didn't even know about, and stretched, trying my hardest not to think about my dream. That did not go over too well, though, because the image of my sister's bloody face and glazed over eyes were burned into my brain, popping up every single time I shut my eyes. The image itself caused a jolt of fear to surge through my body, churning my stomach and making my heart skip a beat. I could feel tears begin to form behind my eyes, and soon I felt the familiar lump forming in my throat, followed by the burning of the tears. When the world began to go to shit, I spent a lot of time trying to deny it all and went about my normal, everyday activities. Then the sickness—whatever it was—spread to every nook and cranny in the United States. It seemed like the sleepy little town I inhabited in Florida took forever to actually see any evidence of the outbreak. When it did, however, the town became a flurry of panic and survival preparedness. Now that I couldn't deny it anymore, I spent a lot of time crying. I tried not to cry around Michelle—hell, we _all_ did—but since she wasn't here, I decided to let them come freely; if I kept them in for too long, I knew I'd explode sooner or later.

While I got an inadequate breakfast of baked beans and canned carrots ready, I let out pitiful sniffles and allowed fat, hot tears to dribble down my cheeks. The breakfast was not ideal, obviously, and that seemed to fuel the tears. After my breakfast and I had calmed down, I stepped out into the front of the pawn shop, gripping my tomahawk in my hand, and cautiously made my way to the window. I stumbled over fallen merchandise a few times, cursing quietly and staying as still as possible to wait for any ghouls to come bursting through the windows. The sun was still hiding, but it was peeking out just enough to cast a pale blue glow over the store and streets outside the shop doors. Outside I could faintly see a few ghouls roaming around, but there were still too many to chance running out to the street to grab the bag. I chose to grab my chair from the back room and sit it down by the window so I could watch the street. My bags were also brought out to the front, and I locked the door to the back, just in case someone happened to come in through the back door.

I sat on the chair for an hour, periodically nodding off and waking myself up when my chin would land on my chest, and waited for some kind of thinning in the small group of ghouls, but nothing happened. The bag of guns on the street was mocking me, laughing at me because I just could not get to it at the moment. It had shifted a foot or two overnight, no doubt caused by the ghouls kicking and stumbling over it as they shuffled by.

Around midmorning I got up to stretch my legs and stand closer to the window to look down the street. To the right the ghouls were clustered closer together; to the left they seemed to thin out. I stood at the window, my hands perched on my hips, and blankly stared out at the sprawling city in front of me. I'm not sure how long I stood there before I finally turned away to sit back down at my spot in front of the windows; I figured it must have been an hour or so, because when I sat back down my stomach rumbled loudly. I reached down and fished out a can of ravioli, followed by a bottle of water, and proceeded to scoop the food out of the can with my fingers. The orange sauce stained my fingers long after I'd sucked them clean, and I was sure it stained my chin and the corners of my mouth, also.

_Good thing there's no one to look attractive for_, I mused derisively. I continued to watch the road for a few more hours, taking a short nap for about thirty minutes, when there seemed to be an opening in the cluster of ghouls. I jumped up, grabbing my tomahawk in one swift movement, and stalked to the door, kneeling down by a stand to keep myself hidden. I checked to the left, counting out four ghouls, then the right at the thick horde clogging the road, deciding now was as good a time as any. I figured that if I went out and the ghouls saw me, I'd snatch the bag up, run back in and lower the shutters.

I crawled up to the door and slowly stood up, staring intently at the ghouls as they roamed around, then reached my free hand out tentatively to quietly turn the lock. I heard the small crunch of the lock sliding back, then gripped the handle of the door, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves. After counting to three, I pulled open the door and scurried out, taking shelter behind a car in front of the shop.

* * *

**Fun Fact: **Though it's not widely known, the character T-Dog's real name is Theodore Douglas in the show. He is played by the actor IronE Singleton.

Usernames for Mibba and WalkingDeadFanfiction:

Mibba: SlimesAndSnails

WalkingDeadFanfiction: SnailsAndPuppyDogTails


	6. Vatos

**A/N: **It took me a while to write this. Anyway, I have an original story started on Mibba. My username on that site is SlimesAndSnails, in case any of you fine people wanna check it out.

**Disclaimer:** I'm not doing this whole 'disclaimer' thing anymore. It's obvious I don't own TWD.

* * *

_Vatos_

The Georgia sun beat down on my back as I crouched down behind a car, my free hand bracing myself against the door despite how painfully hot the metal was. There were a few ghouls roaming closer to the car, and I felt a jolt of fear every time one of them bumped into a tire or the mirror. I thought about opening the doors to create a shield for myself on both sides, but decided against it when I thought of the noise the car could possibly make. Instead of panicking and trying to think of ways to cover my own ass, I trained my sights on the bag.

There it was, sitting in the middle of the street in all its glory: the bag. The black bag of guns that was going to help me keep Michelle and myself safe when I found her. It was lying there, teasing me because there were a few ghouls roaming closer to it, almost blocking me from it completely. There weren't very many, but still enough that I'd stand no chance against them unless I had help or was able to high-tail it back to the store before they ate me.

I had just crawled to the edge of the car, leaning forward on the balls of my feet with my free hand braced against the sidewalk, when a body whizzed by me and scooped the bag up, turning briefly to grab the ridiculous sheriff's hat that was lying two feet away, then ran off. I silently cursed to myself, slamming my hand against the concrete, and jumped up to follow after the person who stole my bag of guns. As I ran down the sidewalk, other ghouls that had not been previously preoccupied took notice of me and began shuffling quickly towards me. I came upon a wall of sand bags and braced my hand against it, flinging myself over the wall and landing gracefully on my feet.

"Holy shit," I muttered, looking back at the sand bags. My heart was racing and adrenaline was coursing through my veins, giving me a warm, jittery feeling all over. "I'll never be able to do _that_ again."

I could see the man up ahead, to the right of me, running quickly and daring a quick glance behind himself. For a moment I thought he saw me, but he made no indication that he did, so I kept running after him. Luckily the ghouls ahead hadn't noticed me yet, so they kept shambling after him, snarling and groaning and reaching their disgusting hands out towards him. I could faintly hear someone shouting what sounded like another person's name and I saw the man with the bag of guns falter in his running. Just ahead of him, I saw two men rush into an alley, and soon afterwards he ran after them.

_Well, shit, he has friends_, I thought bitterly, my face scrunching up. By now, the ghouls had taken notice of me, seeing as how I did little to hide myself, and were trying their very hardest to shuffle after me. I finally reached the alley the men had run into. I hesitated slightly when I noticed it was blocked off by the same chain link fence I had encountered the day before. I was broken out of my thoughts by the sound of shouting and cries of pain, and I looked down only to find the two men who had rushed in were beating the man with the bag of guns. There was a man behind the three, leaning over a kid who I assumed was the one yelling, with a crossbow in his hand. I looked down on the poor man, being beaten with a bat from one guy and the fists of the other, and felt anger surge within me. Even though I was about five minutes away from stealing him, I still felt truly horrible that he was having the shit beat out of him. So I did what any normal single woman living by herself during the apocalypse would do: I reached out and punched one of the men when he raised his head.

He stumbled back, a look of shock on his face that no doubt matched mine when he felt my fist connect with his cheek, and stared at me. I heard a noise, like something was being released, and then watched as his friend began screaming and holding a hand on his bottom, an arrow sticking out from it. The man I punched looked quickly to his friend, then back up at me, then down to the poor man with the guns—who I noticed was wearing a baseball cap eerily similar to Glenn's— and then grabbed onto his friends' shirt. I could hear a car approaching and I looked back to see it pull up hastily in front of the fence before I was roughly shoved out of the way as the man I had punched dragged the man screaming and fighting out of the alley and into the car, taking out a ghoul while he was at it. That's when I noticed the man _was_, in fact, Glenn. First I was struck with guilt because I was willing to steal from him, then anger at the men who had beat him, and then, lastly, fear when I watched them drag him away. It was then that Glenn took notice of me in between his screaming, and his eyes grew even wider than before.

"Holy shit," he breathed, struggling desperately against his captors. "Catherine, what are you doing here? Get out of here, _now_!"

I looked over to the car, my eyes wide and my mouth slightly hanging open. I wasn't quite sure what to do; I knew I could possibly help Glenn by attacking the men holding him with my tomahawk, but I was so frightened that I just stood there, staring at him like an idiot. The two men dragged him forcefully onto the sidewalk, then shoved him unceremoniously into the back of the car. The man I punched looked out at me from the car window and spat out in an angry voice, "Bitch!"

The car sped off, with ghouls beginning to clamor over it, and I was left in the alley looking like a deer caught in headlights. I turned my head to look at the man with the crossbow, who heaved himself up and ran past me to the fence, throwing himself on it and screaming at the car. At my feet was the bag—the _blessed_ bag—and with a guilt filled apology sent towards Glenn, I reached down and grabbed it, turning to run through the alley instead of out of it. I heard the fence clang shut just as I heaved the bag onto my shoulder, but before I could even take two steps I felt a hand seize my arm and roughly yank me back.

"Oh, no you don't," growled the man, throwing me against the wall and ripping the bag from my shoulder. "That's _my_ bag of guns."

He turned around again and dropped the bag, charging towards the kid he had been previously leaning over and shoving him back against the wall. Just as the kid rammed into the wall, two other men ran up to him, one of them wearing a police uniform. He put a hand on the man's shoulder, who was currently swearing and threatening the other kid. I looked down to the bag again, then back up at the three men and kid, and decided against taking the bag when I saw how many ghouls had piled up against the fence. The second man, a burly black man, pointed to the fence and pointed out that they were cut off. It was then that he took notice of me, along with the cop.

"Who's that?" asked the cop, pointing at me lazily with his gun. I raised my tomahawk just slightly, letting him know I was armed. The man with the crossbow looked back at me, a scowl immediately forming on his face.

"I don't know, man," he said, looking back to the cop. He flung his arm out, motioning towards me. "Some idiot who came in and tried to take the guns. Glenn seemed to know her, too."

My anger flared, and the adrenaline that was coursing through my veins forced me shout out to him, "Screw you, you redneck son of a bitch!"

His head snapped back to me, his nostrils flaring and his eyes wide, and moved away from the cop, stomping towards me with his chest puffed out. "You wanna say that again?"

When I didn't say anything, he huffed, looking me up and down, then turned around to the cop again, muttering a "stupid bitch" in my direction. The cop rolled his eyes and picked up the bag of guns, pointing to me as he did it and telling me to follow him. I hesitated for a moment, feeling a bit cornered as I was the only woman in an alley filled with men, then followed when he cast a stern look my way.

The group took off down the alley, with me following behind the man with the crossbow, and made a right into the next alley. I followed them until we came to a ladder, my eyes never leaving the bag of guns. As I climbed up the ladder, between the man with the crossbow and the cop this time, I began to formulate plans to take the bag and run. I _needed_ those guns, and I didn't care if they really did belong to this cop. This was a dog-eat-dog world, and I'd be damned if I let myself get eaten. Plus, I still needed to find my niece, if she was even still alive. If I did take them though, I knew Glenn would most likely feel like I betrayed him.

I followed the group into a building, moving swiftly into what the cop had referred to earlier as "the lab". The man with the crossbow, whose name I quickly learned was Daryl, shoved the kid down onto the ground, then sent a cold stare my way. The cop, whose name was Rick, looked back to me and pointed to a chair next to a desk. I obediently sat in it, my eyes never leaving the bag as he sat it down on the ground by the desk.

"Those men you were with," started Rick, directing his statement towards the kid on the floor, setting his hat down on the desk and taking a seat on the corner. "We need to know where they went."

Daryl was pacing back and forth, his body tense and sweaty, alternating between sending me and the kid on the ground dirty looks. I scowled at him, then looked back to the bag.

"I ain't telling you nothing," said the kid, an air of arrogance in his voice. Rick sighed and shifted on the desk, passing a hand over his face in frustration.

The black man, who I learned was referred to as T-Dog, spoke up next. "Jesus, man, what the hell happened back there?"

He looked to Daryl, who was still pacing angrily. Daryl responded with, "I told you! This little turd and his douche bag friends came out of nowhere and jumped me. Then this little bitch shows up and tries to take the bag!"

He swung an arm out towards me, his angry gaze falling on me. I tried my best to look threatening, but by this time the adrenaline was wearing off, and the soreness and tiredness was kicking in.

"Man, you're the one who jumped me, _puto_," retorted the kid, looking up to Daryl with contempt. "Screaming about trying to find his brother like it's my damn fault."

"They took Glenn," said Daryl, who was still pacing. "Could have taken Merle, too."

The kid looked up to him, a look of disgust on his face. "Merle? What kind of hick name is that? I wouldn't name my dog Merle."

This apparently pissed Daryl off because he rounded the desk, kicking my shoe while he was at it, and sent a kick towards the kid, who cowered in his spot on the dusty ground. Rick held him back, cursing at him and ordering him to back off from the kid. He shoved him back a few steps and watched as he stepped past him to a bag on the chair. Rick looked back to me, his face sweaty and full of exhaustion, and asked, "Are you with this kid?"

I shook my head, holding my hands up to him. "I'm just here for the guns, officer."

He rolled his eyes at me and looked back to Daryl, who had just pulled a bundle out of the bag.

"She wasn't with him, but Glenn knew her," he stated absently as he turned to the kid on the ground. "Want to see what happened to the last guy that pissed me off?"

He unwrapped the bundle and threw the object down harshly onto the kid's lap. The kid immediately freaked out and jumped out of his seat. I eagerly looked over the desk but immediately regretted it when I saw it was a human hand.

"Oh, Christ," I muttered, holding onto my stomach. T-Dog looked in my direction before looking back at the desk. Daryl stomped to the kid and took hold of his shirt, bringing him up to his face.

"Start with the feet this time," he threatened through gritted teeth. Rick walked to him and yanked him off the kid, then leaned down to negotiate a meeting with him and his friends. The kid nodded slightly at him, fear etched on his face at Daryl's threat. Rick sighed in relief, rubbing at his face again. He stood up and walked back to the desk. Finally, the attention was turned to me.

"What did you need the guns for?" he asked, looking directly at me. Daryl wasted no time in butting into the conversation.

"Yeah, what the hell do you need guns for?" he questioned condescendingly. "Do you even know what half these guns are? Do you even know how to _shoot_ a gun?"

I could feel the anger and frustration bubbling up within me again. "No, I don't know how to shoot a fucking gun, but seeing as how it's the end of the world, there's no better time to learn, don't you think?"

He glared at me then opened his mouth to say something, but was stopped when Rick held up a hand.

"What did you need all of those guns for?" he asked calmly.

"For protection," I stated plainly. He looked at me funny, his eyes flicking to the tomahawk on my lap and the pistol on my waist.

"You're not with a group? You don't have anyone else to protect you?" There was a hint of disbelief in his voice and his eyes were wide.

"No, it's just me," I said with a shrug and shake of my head. "Well, there were others. They're all dead now."

There was a beat of silence before he quietly asked, "How many were there?"

I looked up at him, tapping my foot and pursing my lips. "Fourteen. Last member went missing a few days ago. My niece. I wanted the guns for protection and for when I went on my searches to find her. Glenn had been helping me find her when he made a trip into the city the day she went missing."

He leaned back and sighed, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. Daryl had begun pacing again and it was making me nervous as I talked to Rick.

"You might as well write her off as dead," he spat. I felt a breaking point be reached within myself as he said that, and before I knew it, I was launching myself out of my chair and raising my tomahawk above my head. Rick jumped off the desk and threw himself in front of me, his arms wrapping around my waist. T-Dog joined him when he saw that I would not give up, wrapping his own arms around me and pulling me back. I dropped my tomahawk, but continued to kick and grunt as I reached for Daryl.

The kid they had brought back decided to seize this opportunity and try to make a run for it, but Daryl quickly caught on and shoved him back onto the ground.

"Alright, let's just take a moment to breathe," said Rick, holding his hands up in an attempt to placate us all. He sighed exasperatedly and shifted his weight to his right foot, his hands coming down to rest on his hips. "Okay, you lost your niece. Where did you lose her? And how did you meet Glenn?"

"And what are all those scratches from?" T-Dog jumped in, nodding his head towards the multiple scrapes covering my arms and face. Rick and Daryl finally seemed to take notice, also, and both instinctively reached for their weapons.

"The day I lost my niece, I had been gathering supplies," I said as I tried to catch my breath. "I left her at the apartment we were squatting in, but when I came back the apartment had been broken into and she was gone. I got the scrapes 'cause I had to jump buildings to escape a horde of ghouls. I met Glenn a while back; he was gathering clothes for your group and he wandered into the same store my niece and I were gathering supplies in. He offered to take us back to your camp, but I didn't exactly trust him then."

Rick nodded as he listened to me then looked around at the others in the room. "Okay. Maybe when we get Glenn back we can help you look around."

Daryl groaned and stomped back over to us. "Hell no, I am not helping her look for her niece. What about Merle? We have to look for my brother!"

Rick turned to him and put his hands on Daryl's chest, trying to calm him down. "Daryl, we couldn't _find_ Merle. Hell, he cut off his own damn hand! He might be hiding out somewhere, or even on his way back to camp."

I bent over to pick up my tomahawk, then stared at the two of them.

"Before we do anything, we need to get Glenn," said T-Dog. He looked at the two men, then over to me. "But what are we going to do about her?"

I scoffed and turned my body towards him. "What do you mean by that?"

He sent me a bland look then said, "You tried taking the guns, too! We can't just leave you here so you can make off with them!"

I opened my mouth to say something, but Rick cut me off. "He's right. I'm sorry, but we can't leave you here. We need those guns. Our _group_ needs those guns. You'll have to come with us, and when we get Glenn, we'll figure out where to go from there. If Glenn can make a solid argument for your case, then maybe you can come back with us."

I huffed angrily then dropped down into my seat. Rick let out a quiet sigh then turned his attention back to the kid on the ground.

"We need to get our friend back," he stated in a firm tone, his eyes boring into the kid's. He nodded slightly then licked his lips, turning his face to the ground. Rick spoke up again, ordering him in a no nonsense voice, "You _will_ tell us where he is so we can get him back."

The kid was quiet for moment before he looked at Rick, then at T-Dog, Daryl, and myself. His gaze lingered on me a little longer than the others.

"What's your niece's name?" he asked, nodding his head towards me. I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to read his expression and find out why he wanted to know Michelle's name. He seemed to notice my discomfort and added, "Some of the _vatos_ found a little girl abandoned in an apartment a few days ago. They said they found a family stuffed in the closet. They thought it was hers."

I felt my heartbeat quicken and my chest tighten considerably. I jumped out of my seat and advanced on the kid, dropping down onto my knees painfully and grabbing him up by his sweaty wife beater. My hands twisted his shirt around and cause it to ride up on his skinny body, and I yanked on him as hard as I could to bring him right into my face.

"Where is she, you bastard!" I shouted, tears brimming on my eyes. I shook him violently, causing his head to bounce off the wall slightly. "Did she have blond hair? Was is short? Was she wearing a blue shirt when you found her? A pair of black leggings?"

He nodded fearfully at me, his eyes as wide as saucers as he tried his hardest to lean away from me. My face fell when he nodded his affirmation again, and I lost all control. I let him go, watching numbly as his body slumped to the ground, then swung my hand at his face as hard as I possibly could. The resounding smack that echoed throughout the room made even myself sick, but I couldn't stop myself; all I could see was red. I smacked him again, then again and again.

"Did you touch her, you bastard?" I shouted at him, my arm swinging forward for another smack. Before my hand could collide with his cheek, I felt arms wrap around me and haul me to my feet, dragging me away from the kid who now looked like a beaten puppy. As I was dragged to my seat, Rick appeared in my line of vision, holding his hands out to calm me down.

"Relax," he ordered softly, watching as whoever was dragging set me down in my chair. I immediately dropped my head into my hands and began sobbing, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably. I turned my head back to the kid on the ground, who was staring at me with what I thought was sympathy.

"She's alive," he said softly, turning his eyes to the ground, his face looking guilty. I kept my eyes on him, waiting for him to say more. He glanced back to see us all staring at him, waiting for more information. "They came back with a bunch of supplies from that apartment. But the little girl, she kept crying and screaming for her 'aunt Cathy'. We thought she didn't know her family was dead, so we told her they were, thinking we were telling her the truth because the _vatos_ found that family in the closet."

I sniffled miserably, feeling a small inkling of relief blooming within me. It was quickly overshadowed when I realized Michelle thought I was dead. I could feel eyes on me, however, so I looked up to find Rick staring at me with a stony, accusing expression.

"Did you kill that family?" he asked, his voice hard. I shook my head, my eyes growing wide with the accusation.

"No," I answered, shaking my head more forcefully this time. "No, when we found the apartment, they were already in there. I just kept the door shut and told Michelle not to go inside. I just left them there."

Rick nodded then heaved out a relieved sigh, turning to take a seat on the corner of the desk again. He rubbed his hand over his face then looked back at the kid on the ground. "You're going to tell us where your '_vatos_' are, and you're going to help us get our friend and her niece back, understand?"

The kid merely nodded, and I let out a shuddering sigh when I realized I would be seeing Michelle again.

* * *

**Fun Fact: **In the world of The Walking Dead, walkers outnumber the living about 5000 to 1.


	7. Bad News -UPDATE-

I am sorry to say this, but Extinction will have to be put on hold indefinitely. I have an immediate family emergency that I must attend to.

Just to give you an idea of what this emergency is, my mom has cancer, and she only has a few weeks left. So I want to spend as much time as I can helping care for her and making sure she's comfortable. I also need time to spend with my family and time to grieve. I hope you all understand.

XOXO

SnailsAndPuppyDogTails


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